


Contingency Plans

by airy_nothing



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airy_nothing/pseuds/airy_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine spends a lot of time imagining how he'll react, if Kurt should ever announce that he's seeing someone new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contingency Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to the prompt: Blaine finds out about Adam.

Blaine spends more time than he should practicing nonchalance.

Because one day soon Kurt will announce that he’s seeing someone. And then—well. Blaine doesn’t want to be the kind of guy who freaks out.

Even though he thinks he may be just that sort of guy.

In his free time (and let’s face it, there isn’t much, between regionals and meetings and Tina and Sam), he plays out scenarios in his mind. The thing is, he isn’t sure _which_ Kurt will tell him the news—because Kurt, well, he has different colors, all beautiful, even if some of them are terrifying. Sometimes it’s just the tone of Kurt’s voice or the quirk of his mouth that shades his personality, or that little thing he sometimes does with his eyebrows. Mostly, Blaine knows, the different moods are found in Kurt’s eyes, in their hue and sparkle, in the way they invite or sometimes, deny, in the way they linger or pierce straight through.

When Blaine starts imagining Kurt’s announcement, he's in the middle of Astronomy class. The teacher’s been lecturing on binary stars, and how sometimes the double star is just a visual trick: instead of gravity holding the two bodies together in orbit, there’s no bond at all, just two stars that from a great distance, merely look close to each other. Nothing more. It’s the nothing more that prompts Blaine’s mind to wander and picture a Kurt who is bitter, since it’s the version of his ex he fears the most. Best to be prepared.

It’s a stupid scenario, one in which Blaine is staying over at the Hudson-Hummels, hanging out with Sam, playing _Skyrim_. Kurt shows up unannounced, a boy on his arm—no, a man, because let’s face it, Kurt Hummel isn’t going to date boys in New York—and there’s Blaine, sitting on the floor pretzel style next to Sam, a bowl of popcorn between them on the floor, giddy like two kids on a playdate.

Mortifying doesn’t even begin to describe it.

In fact Blaine tries to block the daydream as soon as it forms, leaving a collage of images in its wake: Kurt’s raised eyebrow, spotting the oil stains on Blaine’s sweatpants. Blaine’s _sweatpants_ —in the face of Kurt’s tight-fitting vest and slacks and severely styled hair. The man on Kurt’s arm, so much older, a look of disbelief in his eyes, likely thinking how such a boy—a gaming remote in his hands no less—could have any connection to Kurt. Kurt and this man carrying on very _loudly_ above them, once they lug suitcases into Kurt’s bedroom. Kurt asking Blaine, before turning in for the night, “You’re not still applying to NYADA, are you?” Blaine sobbing in Sam’s arms. (Well—that last part’s not exactly mortifying, he admits).

He knows Kurt wouldn’t act like that, but that information doesn’t stop the images from forming in his mind. And they keep coming, in weird moments throughout Blaine's days.

One day while boxing after school, as his fist meets red leather, all he sees is a more passive aggressive Kurt slipping the reference to his new boyfriend in casually over the phone: _Quick, Blaine—what accessory should I add for my date tonight? Is the fox tail too much? What do you mean, “What date?”_

Blaine replays the moments over and over, in and out of class, in the choir room during a break. And he knows, in his heart, that when it really happens, it won’t be quite like this, that Kurt wouldn’t rub it in. Would he? Blaine even starts to wonder at some point, if he’s doing again what Sam had told him not to so long ago now—punish himself. Isn’t Blaine done with that by now? And yet the old wounds feel fresh. Is it because he’s finally gotten to the point where he is okay . . . alone? Is it because he’s realizing Kurt is probably okay, too—and so is ready for something new himself?

The thought kind of terrifies him.

He can’t seem to stop making up stories in his head.

There’s playful Kurt, the one who announces his new significant other by sending Blaine a slideshow. The email’s subject reads, “Can you believe this?” And the pictures are adorable shots of Kurt grinning ear to ear, his new boyfriend an admittedly cute, lively man. The photos are ridiculous, taken during the Apples' practice one day. And Kurt looks happy, even as it hurts to witness it. Blaine, in that version, is happy too. How can he not be, with a joyful smile like that, with a smile that seems to reach to Kurt's core?

Even so, it’s sympathetic Kurt he hopes for most of all, when it finally happens, because that Kurt wouldn’t surprise Blaine with the news, even if Blaine feels in his heart that he still sort of deserves the surprise. No, this Kurt wouldn’t tell him by text or phone, because he’d want to be there to see Blaine’s reaction. He’d take Blaine for a walk, maybe, and they’d stop somewhere—near a park—and sit side by side on a bench. They'd look out at the pond, at the signs of life appearing there, after a winter that seemed to last forever. This Kurt would nudge Blaine’s shoulder with his own while toeing a lump of new grass peeking through the earth. He’d say, _Blaine, we’re friends, right? I can tell you anything?_ And after Blaine’s assenting nod, he’d say, _Honey, I met someone._ And Kurt would take Blaine’s hand in his, and Blaine would force himself to meet his gaze (not wavering in the least), take a deep breath and say, _I’m happy for you._

And Blaine would be. He would tell himself that, again and again, until it were true.


End file.
